


A Test

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: Winterfell needs an heir. Like most things, it falls to Sansa.





	A Test

_ Winterfell needed an heir _ . The thought nagged at Sansa more and more with each passing day. And like most other things - everything, it sometimes seemed - it was going to fall to her.

The thought of Arya as a mother was laughable. Arya had grown into a good woman - determined, tough, as ruthless as she needed to be. But there wasn’t enough softness there to raise a baby in such troubled times. And she’d have to stop her… other activities, at least for a while. The chances of her agreeing to that…

Bran was almost as absurd. Sansa hadn’t asked if he was still capable of fathering a child, but he seemed not in the least inclined to do so.

And any child Jon had, well… Jon and the Dragon Queen had their eyes on the Iron Throne.

Which left Sansa.

She wasn’t worried about marriage, not yet. It was better to wait and see how everything played out, see if she even needed to wed again for political advantage. But after Ramsay had… She swallowed thickly, closing her eyes and pushing away the memories. After  _ Ramsay _ , she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to bear it.

She’d heard talk, of course; everyone had been obsessed with sex at King’s Landing. Everyone had advice for her - close her eyes and tolerate it until it was over was what came up most often. Shae had insisted that it could be pleasurable with the right partner, but Sansa wasn’t so sure about all of that. She’d never felt anything remotely close. But if she could tolerate it, then she could do her duty by her people. A Stark needed to hold Winterfell.

It didn’t help that the coming war and where they were, her options were rather limited. Her best choice seemed to be to find herself a Wildling to lay with, or…

Or. Ser Jaime had come to Winterfell to offer his service in defense against the Night King’s army. He wouldn’t do, of course, for so many reasons - not the least of which was the flicker of pity in his eyes whenever he saw her.

But shortly after Ser Jaime had come Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. There was no pity in his eyes when he looked at her. She’d known him, or had at least been acquainted with him in King’s Landing. He’d never been unkind to her. Tyrion had seemed to think very highly of him, and Tyrion had been good to her.

And, if rumors were to be believed, Ser Bronn was the type of man who could engage in a casual affair. That was the other problem - bedding someone who would get too attached, who would think that his path to being King in the North lay between her legs.

But how did one ask a man if he’d lay with her?

She paced along the battlements, her winter cloak secured tightly around her. It really was one of her favorite places to be. It was so peaceful, the gently falling snow and the crisp, cold air. It was predictable. It was safe.

“Milady.” Ser Bronn’s voice pricked at her, pulling her attention. “You sent for me?”

She turned to him. He had very stunning eyes, she noticed that about him. Piercing blue, like he could see right through her. “Yes, Ser Bronn.” It was very open up there, very exposed. Someone else could come up at any moment, or hear from the yard down below. Nerves stole her tongue, and she stared at him for a moment before blurting, “Would you walk with me?”

His eyebrows rose in some surprise, but he offered her a slight bow. “Of course, milady.”

The snow wasn’t too thick; lazy, fat flakes arcing through the air. Sansa clasped her hands before her as they walked. Her path was intentional. The Godswood was close, private. No one would hear them there.

“How are you settling in?” she asked after a time. It was something to fill the silence that had seemed to settle over them, heavy and thick.

“Can’t complain. The food’s warm, the ale’s cold, and the…” He cut off abruptly and cleared his throat. “Good hospitality.”

Words flew through her mind as she tried to work out what to say. Eventually, she came out with, “You’ve heard about my marriage to Ramsay Bolton.” Not a question, and she was unable to keep the bitterness out of her words.

“Aye, I have,” came the guarded response.

“I need…” She trailed off, the words dying in her throat. She always had to be so careful about what she said, even when she didn’t know what to say. “I need to know if I can still do my duty to the North.” There. It was out there in front of them.

“Your duty, milady?” His tone was one of confusion, rather than teasing. Why wasn’t he getting it?

She gave a sharp sigh, her eyes hard on the snowy ground in front of them. “Winterfell needs an heir,” she said after a long moment. “Not right now, now is the worst possible time, but I need to know that I can…” She shook her head. “Fulfill my duty, when the time comes. That I can actually…” Her hands waved, unhelpful gestures. “Be with a man.”

He stopped walking and turned toward her. “You want me to fuck you?” came the incredulous question.

The question brought a stain of color to her cheeks, but she lifted her head to meet his eyes squarely. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to.

“Bit cold out here in the snow.” Ser Bronn glanced around them. “And your brother could come tripping over us - I like my cock where it is, thank you.”

“Oh!” She shook her head and turned from him, frustration stealing her words. “Nevermind.” She increased her speed, hurrying toward the Godswood with tears stinging her eyes. It had been a foolish idea, and she’d been foolish to even think it.

But Ser Bronn caught up with her easily, and his hand closed over her arm. “Now, wait.”

She wrenched away, glaring up at him before continuing on her path

“Easy now, I’ll be touching a lot more than your arm if we do this.” His eyes moved over her. “I’m just… That’s a bit out of the blue. It’s not often a queen says she wants to bounce up and down on my balls.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, all but positive he was trying to shock her. “I said nevermind. It was a stupid thought.”

Silence fell again as they walked. At last he asked, “Why me?”

A long sigh slipped out. “Are you not going to drop it?”

“Answer the fucking question.” There was no malice in his words, no anger.

“Because you’re not related to me?” It was the first thing that sprang to mind, and she couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m not at that.” He looked amused, at least.

The smile fell off with the falling snow. “By all accounts, you know what to do with a woman. And you’ve never hurt any of the…” Her tongue stumbled over the next word.  _ Whores _ . “Any of the girls you’ve been with.” She paused, then continued in much a softer voice. “And you never hurt me.” 

He was quiet for a time, and she looked over to see him staring off into the distance. “Would you rather I said I was madly in love with you?” Half a laugh slipped out.

“All the girls are. I can’t even go outside sometimes because they’re throwing themselves at me.” A grin quirked his lips, but slid away almost as quickly as hers had. “You’re serious about this.”

It was her turn to stay quiet, her eyes trained ahead of them. He probably already thought she was stupid, there was no point in compounding it. “Just forget it, Ser Bronn,” she said when the silence got too thick to bear. “I’m sorry I…” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“I suppose you’ve got this all worked out, hey? I think we both know what’ll happen if your brother finds us together.” A rueful grin twisted his lips. “I don’t fancy ending up in the belly of one of those dragons, either.”

“No one goes up to the tower anymore, especially not now.” Sansa glanced at him. “No one but me. It’s strange to think that’s where all of this started.”

He came to a stop, his fingers curling around her elbow to bring her to a stop, too. She didn’t pull away that time, instead turning to face him. His eyes studied her, seeming to see into her very soul. “When?” There was none of his usual sarcasm, his dry wit.

Her heart leaped into her throat, but she squared her shoulders and met his eyes. “Tonight.” Before she lost her nerve.

“I’ll be there. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be. But you…” His grip tightened for just the barest second before he let her go. “Think about whether that’s where you truly want to be.” He stared at her for another long moment before turning and going back to the castle.

She watched him walk away through the snow. Was that a tingle of excitement swirled in with her anxiety?

* * *

 

Sansa could hardly think of anything else all day. Was she mad? Had she made a mistake? He was probably convinced she wasn’t going to be there, so would there be any harm in just not being there?

No, she needed to know.

But maybe he wouldn’t be there. Maybe he was just having her on, making a joke at her expense. No one would believe him if he said anything about it, though. Everyone knew she had ice in her veins, wouldn’t stoop to…

She didn’t carry a lantern, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The night was dark, but an orange glow came from the door at the top of the stairs, like someone had lit a fire within.

She pushed her way inside, stopping and staring at the orange flames. “Someone will know we’re up here.”

“Aye.” Ser Bronn lounged against the wall, one foot over the other and his arms folded. “We’re hardly the first people coming up here for a good fuck. It’s bloody cold, and I’ll be the one with my arse in the air. And now…” A smile quirked his lips. “Everyone else will know it’s already occupied.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. She’d seen the glow of a fire on some nights past, had just disregarded it. No one who wasn’t supposed to be in Winterfell would get past Arya, the guard, the dragons, just to hole up at the top of the tower.

“But you’re here.” He sounded slightly surprised.

“So are you.” She stood there in the doorway, unsure what she should do next.

He pushed away from the wall, moving easily through the room toward her. “I wouldn’t miss this. I thought for sure you were shitting me.” He took her hands and drew her gently through the room toward the fire. “Come over here, it’s warmer.”

She let him guide her to where he’d laid out some furs on the floor. Not quite her bed, but better than the cold stones. . This was already better than… Better than her past experiences. She pushed those out of her head, telling herself to be in the moment instead of in the past.

Sansa untied her cloak and let it fall to the floor. She reached for the laces on her dress, but he caught her hands again. “What-”

“I’ll get there, milady. Don’t you be trying to rush me.”

“Sansa,” she corrected immediately. If he was going to… “At least while we’re here.”

“Sansa, then.” But he didn’t reach for the laces. Instead one hand slipped into the small of her back, pulling her to him. She was tall, but he was taller still, and she had to look up to look into his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.

Ser Bronn leaned into her until his mouth closed over her own. His lips were slightly rough, chapped from the weather, but warm.

She stiffened at the first touch, but that was all he did, just lay his lips over hers. She relaxed, her hand coming up to rest against his chest, and that was when he coaxed her lips apart. His tongue dipped inside, tentatively at first, but then dipping and darting as she stroked it with her own.

Warmth spread through her as the kiss deepened, and it lasted until she clung to his gray shirt. She pulled away to take in a long, shaky breath. “I thought we were going to-”

“There you go trying to rush me again. Like I don’t know how to show a girl a good time. I have a reputation to uphold, here.” He leaned in again, though his lips moved against the side of her neck. His mouth worked a hot path down to the collar of her gown, then up until he found some secret spot behind her ear that sent heat tingling through her.

“Oh!” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut and her head falling back.

“That’s it,” he murmured. He lingered there, the edge of his teeth making her gasp. It was only then that he reached for the laces on her gown. “Too many bloody clothes.” His lips moved against her skin.

A surprised laugh slipped out, but she pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle it. “I’m sorry, Ser Bronn.”

“No need to call me Ser just because I’m a knight.” He lifted his head away, a slight smile on his face. “No, you can’t be running around out there in just your shift. Although it would be a pretty sight.”

“Are you…” Her eyes widened, a smile turning up the corners of her lips. “Are you trying to court me?”

“Oh no. No, we’re definitely not doing that. I like my balls where they are, thank you.” Despite his complaints, he was making pretty good progress with her gown. When he got it open, he helped her push it off. Blue eyes moved over her as he pulled his own shirt over his head and dropped it carelessly on the floor.

The silvery scars puckering here and there across his skin were shiny in the firelight. Bronn pulled her to him again, his hand warm in the small of her back. “Now, where was I?”

“You-” The words died in her throat as he nuzzled into the hollow just behind her ear again. “Just there,” came out on a gasp.

“Just here.” His mouth worked back down, over her collarbone and to where her chest was left exposed by the neck of her shift. “Or here.”

It was nice. It was really nice. She could tolerate this, lay under a man as he put his seed in her. Did that mean she should stop him, since she already had her answer? But she somehow didn’t, not even when he pulled her down until she lay on the fur on her back.

He leaned over her on one arm, the other hand resting on her waist. He looked at her before closing his mouth over hers. Just the briefest of kisses before he worked back along her jaw to the side of her neck.

His hand slid down her thigh to just above her knee, and he started gathering her shift up, inching it higher and higher over her legs.

She stiffened at first, but he hadn’t hurt her yet. Maybe she did need to do the rest of it, to find out for sure if she could take it. Still, the heat of his mouth sent warmth tingling through her, pulling at things low in her body.

When he’d worked the fabric up enough, his touch slipped under it, onto her bare leg. He nipped at her neck as his fingers slid slowly upward and in.

It was impossible not to tense up as he slipped into her smalls, but he pretended not to notice. He found the curls between her legs, his finger pushing into them until-

“Ser Bronn!” she gasped as he found the nub at the top. “What are you doing?”

He circled over it, lightly at first, then slightly firmer as she pushed up into him. “Right now I’m making you come.”

A pressure built up between her legs. It felt incredible, each circle coiling tighter inside her until she thought she would snap. “Bronn, I don’t…”

“I do.” He nipped at her lower lip, and she kissed him almost desperately. 

Sansa felt like she was pulled thin, like she would break like a thread pulled too taut. “I can’t take any more.”

“We’re not at the good part, yet. Just a bit more…”

It got better? It couldn’t possible get better, she felt like she could hardly be contained in her skin. And yet somehow, it kept going, pushing her higher.

The world felt like it was narrowing down to the sensations between her legs. Time stood still, her breath caught in her lungs, the expelled in a whoosh as the tingling heat burst and spread through her entire body. She gripped at him, her fingers biting into his bare shoulders as ecstasy spun through her.

When at last she opened her eyes, she found him staring at her, a very self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Lift up, Sansa.” His fingers closed in her smalls, and she knew what he wanted.

Nerves twisted inside her again, but she lifted her hips and let him pull her smallclothes down. She kicked them down her legs until she was bare under the fabric of her shift.

Bronn moved over her, his hand moving down between them. The head of his cock nudged against her center, slipping through the slick heat that had gathered there.

She set her heels on the floor for leverage, her eyes tightly shut. He pushed just inside her before withdrawing. When he returned, it was just a little deeper, his hard shaft dancing over the sensitive nerves just at her entrance.

He worked himself in slowly, pressing forward just a little more each time, and she felt herself melting around him. Already the heat started to build again, and when at last he was fully seated inside her, he reached down until his thumb rested just over her nub.

He rocked into her, slow and deep, and she lifted her hips to meet him each time. He let her dictate the pace. Slow, she rolled her hips slowly at first. But each time they came together, his thumb skittered over her sensitive clit. More, she wanted more. She moved faster, her fingers splayed across his back.

It wasn’t enough. “More,” she breathed, so softly she wondered if he’d heard her.

He hitched her leg up over his arm, and somehow it was suddenly  _ deeper _ ,  _ tighter _ ,  _ more _ . Each thrust dragged over a secret spot inside her pussy, lighting her up until she moved wantonly against him.

Sansa pressed her wrist into her mouth to muffle her cries. They weren’t laying together, he wasn’t simply bedding her, he was  _ fucking _ her as he’d said, and she couldn’t get enough. She wrapped her legs around him, her heel pressing into his ass to get more.  _ More _ , she needed-

The world started to narrow down again, and she knew what was coming this time. She embraced it, letting herself spill over the edge with his name on her lips.

He drove into her again and again until at last his rhythm grew uneven. She felt him stiffen, his body tightening over her. She knew what that meant, but for once the pulse of a man’s release inside her didn’t shame her, didn’t sicken her.

Bronn rolled off of her immediately, laying down by her side. “There,” he said as they caught their breath. “You think you can bear your kingdom an heir?”

She turned onto her side, propping her head up on one elbow. “I think so. Thank you, Bronn,” she said quietly.

He grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Any time you want practice, just give me a shout. You know where to find me.”

She found herself wanting to stay, to linger with him there in the tower. But she knew she had to get back to her own chamber, to the bed that waited for her. That meant getting dressed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have worn that gown.”

“Just do it up most of the way, wrap up tight in your cloak. No one’s about at this hour.”

She got up, but he didn’t. “Are you staying here?” She started getting dressed again, which was infinitely more difficult than the undressing had been.

“We can’t leave together. It’s warm up here, one night’s not going to kill me.” He watched her intently as she tucked her clothes into place.

She felt awkward again. When she was dressed, she moved to the door that would let her back down the stairs.

“Sansa.” Her name on his lips made her turn toward him. He looked at her for a long moment, then smiled. “That’s not the only way to make an heir for Winterfell.”

Her answering smile was easy and warm. “Then I guess I’ll see you up here again, Ser Bronn.” She pulled her cloak tightly around herself before going out into the night.


End file.
